I spent the summer after I graduated high school gigging five nights a week with a cover band in my home town of Billings, Montana. It was an informative three months; I learned about tone, pocket and vice. On one of my rare nights off I stumbled (literally) into a tiny bar where Chuck Pyle was absolutely tearing up his battered Martin for an audience of one bored waitress and one surly bartender. The performer was as talented as the room was dead...completely. Chuck was not only a brilliant guitar player but had mastered the art of between song banter. His spoken prologues were written better than most songs one hears at a writer''s night in Nashville. This was one hazy night nearly twenty years ago so I can''t remember the song title but I do remember his introduction; though not verbatim, it went something like this:
"Sometimes it seems to me like one of the jobs of being a musician is to take drugs and tell the rest of the world about it."
He then proceeded to paint a sonic picture of an acid fueled adventure in which he and some fellow musicians morphed into cats, (think T.S. Elliot meets Fritz). I doubt Chuck did this song most nights; he probably read his audience, me, the party of one, and thought, "I have the perfect material for this degenerate." It was so clever and visual that my one listening remained with me all this time. The new posthumous release of Kurt Cobain''s spoken word CD reminded me of Chuck Pyle''s hypothesis.
Many musicians clearly romanticize drug use, even addiction and, unbelievably, drug related fatalities. Some report that drugs open doors in their playing. Tom Hamilton of Aerosmith, sober for some time now, said somewhat sheepishly in an interview that he probably wouldn''t have come up with that great bass line from "Sweet Emotion" had he not been high, (not exactly a ringing endorsement for clean living). The majority of stoner musicians are plain old, garden variety dimwits, (as seen on MTV throughout the eighties), with red-eyed smiles that say, "I wanna rock and roll all night and PARTY EVERY DAY," (ironically, a song written by the chemical-free Paul and Gene of KISS).
The worse are those annoying musicians who play the tortured genius card, arguing the overwhelming burden of lugging around brilliance and enormous talent necessitates a means of escape from feeling too deeply, (e.g. Pete Doherty, the wanker). Regrettably, the musician mythos has taken a sharp turn into some creepy, dark waters. There have always been drugs in music, but now they seem so openly evil. Go to YouTube and check out Cab Calloway''s brilliant performance of "Reefer Man"; the band, along with the audience are all in on a little joke about a bass player harmlessly and hilariously dabbling in weed. Now compare that with any random photo of Amy Winehouse. We''ve come a long way, baby.
Admittedly, I''ve not been an ideal role model. I''ve played many, many gigs with a not-so-healthy buzz (I ain’t talking about a 60 cycle hum from single coil pickups). I''m sure there are videos or audio recordings of some of my less-than-stellar, beer-driven performances out there on some website, which don’t set a great example for kids. Other mistakes include incriminating things I''ve said in interviews and colorful songs I''ve written. On the fifth year of Bushdom, (Bush dumb) I wrote and recorded a song called "Weed in the Whitehouse," which I intended to be more of a funny political jab than a NORML add:
"We need some weed in the Whitehouse,
give us all something to smile about.
Throw a kilo and the furnace
and pump the smoke into the oval office
we''ll finally have some world peace
when we all inhale with the chief.
Oh say can you see,
our country needs some weed."
No matter my intent, you''d be hard pressed to use my work as a battle cry for sobriety.
I regret my formerly cavalier attitude about the whole mess. I hope and pray that I never lead any young, aspiring musician astray. The music world of my youth, though replete with bloated rockers d.o.a. from their assorted overdoses, seems vaguely quaint when compared to what the modern paparazzi serves us each week. Yes, this sounds hypocritical and short sighted, but I maintain that there''s a gigantic difference between the drug use of musicians in the past and modern druggy musicians. In the past it seemed about love, fun and breaking convention, in hopes of establishing a new beautiful world. Today the druggers seem hopelessly set on destruction…no beauty, no future, just get numb and watch the cesspool burn.
The romanticized nihilist rocker image holds a seductive power. Regrettably, just as aspiring musicians study and ape what their heroes play, they also emulate their actions. I wish more musicians would attempt to tear down this false appraisal of the cool, drugged-out musician and give people a more accurate depiction of the true torture these people put themselves and others through.
Singer Layne Staley of Alice in Chains bravely did just that in his final interview three months before he died from an overdose of heroin and cocaine, revealing a broken 34-year-old, incontinent, addled minded, and incapable of leaving his apartment:
"I know I''m dying," he rasped through missing teeth. "This f---ing drug use is like the insulin a diabetic needs to survive...I''m not using drugs to get high like many people think. I know I made a big mistake when I started using this sh--. It''s a very difficult thing to explain. My liver is not functioning and I''m throwing up all the time and sh---ing my pants. The pain is more than you can handle. It''s the worst pain in the world. Dope sick hurts the entire body... I did crack and heroin for years. I never wanted to end my life this way. I know I have no chance. It''s too late. I never wanted [the public''s] thumbs'' up about this f---ing drug use."*
Here''s a short list of a few other potential spokespeople who would have been more than qualified to expand on the pros and cons of mixing one''s music career with chemicals.
GG Allin (36) - punk musician, heroin overdose.
West Arkeen (37) - musician (Guns and Roses), drug overdose.
Chet Baker (58) - jazz trumpeter and singer.
John Balance (42) - musician (Coil), fell over a banister while drunk.
Florence Ballard (32) - musician (The Supremes), cardiac arrest strongly exacerbated by long-term drug abuse.
Lester Bangs (33) - musician, writer, overdose of painkillers, possibly accidental.
Bix Beiderbecke (28) - jazz musician, alcoholism.
Bunny Berigan (33) - musician, trumpet, liver cirrhosis from alcoholism.
Wes Berggren (28) - musician (Tripping Daisy), suspected drug overdose
Dave Bidwell - musician, the Pink Fairies, Chicken Shack, Savoy Brown, Mungo Jerry.
Matty Blagg (real name Matthew Roberts) - musician (Blaggers I.T.A.), heart attack due to ketamine / ecstacy OD.
Mike Bloomfield (36) - blues guitarist, heroin overdose.
Tommy Bolin (25) - musician (Deep Purple), drugs overdose and/or alcohol poisoning.
John Bonham (32) - musician (Led Zeppelin), alcohol-related asphyxiation caused by choking on his own vomit.
James Booker (44) - musician, liver failure..
Rob Buck (42) - musician (10,000 Maniacs), liver disease.
Tim Buckley (28) - rock and roll musician, heroin overdose.
Chad Butler (aka "Pimp C" - 33) - rap musician, accidental overdose of Promethazine/Codeine.
Paul Butterfield (44) - musician, drug and alcohol overdose.
Toy Caldwell (45) - musician, Marshall Tucker Band.
Gene Clark (46) - musician (the Byrds), bleeding ulcer due to long term alcohol abuse.
Sonny Clark - musician, hard bop pianist, heroin overdose.
Steve Clark (30) - musician (Def Leppard), accidental death (anti-depressants, painkillers and alcohol).
Michael Clarke (47) - musician (the Byrds), liver failure due to long term alcoholism.
Kurt Cobain (27) - musician (Nirvana), heroin overdose and a shotgun wound in head. Also theories for murder.
Brian Cole (30) - musician, the Association, heroin overdose.
Brian Connolly (51) - musician (Sweet), liver damage caused by long-term substance abuse and chronic alcoholism.
Cowboy (real name Keith Wiggins - 29) - musician (Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five), drug overdose.
Carl Crack (30) - musician (Atari Teenage Riot), drug overdose.
Darby Crash (22) - punk musician (The Germs), suicide by heroin overdose.
Robbin Crosby (42) - musician (ex-Ratt), contracted HIV as a result of long-time heroin addiction and died of a heroin overdose.
Jesse Ed Davis (43) - guitarist, session musician, drug overdose.
Rick Dey - musician (the Vejtables, February Sunshine, the Wilde Knights and the Merry-Go-Round).
Dimwit - musician, D.O.A., drug overdose.
Tommy Dorsey (51) - jazz musician and bandleader, choked to death while sleeping with the aid of drugs.
John Dougherty - musician, Flipper, heroin overdose.
Nick Drake (26) - musician, anti-depressant overdose, disputed suicide.
Kevin DuBrow (52) - rock vocalist, cocaine overdose.
Tommy Edwards (47) - musician, liner notes for greatest hits album claim death due to alcoholism
John Entwistle (57) - musician, bassist for the Who, died from heart failure brought upon by cocaine use.
Brian Epstein (32) - Manager of The Beatles, drug overdose.
Howie Epstein (47) - musician, ex-bassist with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, heroin overdose
Rick Evers - musician, drummer and songwriter, was married to Carole King, heroin overdose.
Pete Farndon (31) - musician, the Pretenders, drowned/ heroin overdose.
Keith Ferguson - musician, the Fabulous Thunderbirds.
Rory Gallagher (47) - musician, Taste, died of pnemonia and a liver failure, caused by side effects of a combination of doctor-prescribed drugs.
Judy Garland (47) - singer and actress, disputed drug overdose as cause of death.
Lowell George (34) - musician, Little Feat, heart attack - habitual drug abuse probable cause.
Andy Gibb (30) - singer, younger brother of the Bee Gees; cardiac damage strongly exacerbated by cocaine and alcohol abuse.
Candy Givens - musician, Zephyr, drowned in jacuzzi after passing out from a mix of alcohol and quaaludes.
Dwayne Goettel (31) - musician, Skinny Puppy, heroin overdose.
Paul Gonsalves (53) - jazz tenor saxophonist, Duke Ellington, narcotics overdose
Stacy Guess - musician, the Squirrel Nut Zippers, heroin overdose.
Bobby Hatfield - musician, The Righteous Brothers, heart attack triggered by cocaine overdose.
Tim Hardin - folk musician, heroin and morphine overdose.
Eddie Hazel - musician, guitarist, of the P-funk collective, liver failure.
Jimi Hendrix (27) - rock and roll musician, respiratory arrest caused by alcohol and barbiturate overdose and vomit inhalation.
Gregory Herbet - musician, Blood, Sweat & Tears.
Bob Hite - musician, Canned Heat, heart attack from drug use.
Randy Jo Hobbs - musician.
Billie Holiday (44) - jazz singer died from cirrhosis of the liver attributed to longtime alcohol and heroin abuse.
James Honeyman-Scott - musician, the Pretenders, cocaine overdose.
Shannon Hoon (28) - musician, singer in Blind Melon, cocaine overdose.
Steven Ronald "Stevo" Jensen - musician, The Vandals, prescription drug overdose.
Brian Jones - musician, the Rolling Stones, drowned, very likely due to alcohol and barbiturate intoxication.
Rob Jones (a.k.a. The Bass Thing) - musician - former bassist of The Wonder Stuff, heroin/cocaine/alcohol overdose.
Russell Jones (a.k.a. Ol'' Dirty Bastard) - hip hop musician, accidential overdose, cocaine and prescription painkiller.
Janis Joplin (27) - rock and roll and blues musician, heroin overdose.
John Kahn - musician, Jerry Garcia Band, complications of heart disease, heroin, cocaine, and antidepressants found in his body.
Wells Kelly - musician, Orleans, heroin overdose.
Rudy Lewis - musician, the Drifters.
Gerald Levert - R&B singer, son of O''Jays singer Eddie Levert - accidental combination of prescription medications.
Frankie Lymon - musician, doo wop singer, heroin overdose.
Phil Lynott (36) - musician, Thin Lizzy, health breakdown caused by a heroin overdose.
Billy Mackenzie - musician, the Associates, overdosed on temazepam, amitriptyline, and paracetamol (suicide).
Steve Marriott - musician, The Small Faces and Humble Pie, drug related fire.
David McComb (36) - musician, The Triffids, heroin overdose.
Jimmy McCulloch - musician with Wings, guitarist, heroin overdose.
Ron "Pigpen" McKernan - musician, the Grateful Dead, gastrointestinal hemorrhage linked to alcohol abuse.
Robbie McIntosh - musician, Average White Band, heroin overdose.
Jonathan Melvoin - touring keyboardist for the Smashing Pumpkins, heroin overdose.
Big Maceo Merriweather (47) - blues pianist, chronic alcoholism
Miss Christine - musician, The GTOs, heroin overdose.
Keith Moon - musician, the Who, accidental overdose on anti-seizure medication prescribed for alcoholism.
Jim Morrison (27) - musician, The Doors, heart failure, alcohol abuse (cause and fact of death disputed).
Billy Murcia - musician, the New York Dolls, accidental suffocation after drugs and alcohol.
Brent Mydland - musician, keyboardist, of the Grateful Dead, cocaine/morphine overdose.
Modest Mussorgsky - classical composer, alcohol.
Delphine Neid - musician, The Nuns, drugs overdose.
Joachim Nielsen (36) - rock musician in the band Jokke & Valentinerne, drug overdose
Bradley Nowell (28) - musician, Sublime, heroin overdose.
Charlie Ondras - musician, Unsane.
Bryan Ottoson - musician, American Head Charge, accidental prescription-drug overdose.
Malcolm Owen - singer, lyricist of the Ruts, heroin overdose.
John Panozzo (47) - musician, drummer, Styx, complications of alcohol abuse.
Charlie Parker (34) - jazz musician; the official cause of death was (lobar) pneumonia and a bleeding ulcer, his death was hastened by his drug and alcohol abuse
Gram Parsons (26) - country musician, of the Byrds and the Flying Burrito Brothers, overdose, purportedly of morphine and tequila.
Jon-Jon Paulos - musician, the Buckinghams.
Art Pepper (56) - jazz musician.
Kristen Pfaff (27) - musician, ex-member of Hole, heroin overdose.
Esther Phillips (48) - musician, singer, liver and kidney failure due to alcohol and heroin dependency.
John Phillips (65) - musician, of the Mamas and the Papas, heart failure due to lifetime of alcohol and narcotics abuse.
Rob Pilatus (32) - musician, Milli Vanilli, drug overdose.
Carl Radle (37) - bass guitarist, Derek and the Dominos, Eric Clapton, kidney disease due to long term narcotics and alcohol abuse
Dee Dee Ramone (50) - musician, the Ramones, heroin overdose.
James Ray - singer, drug overdose.
Johnnie Ray (63) - musician, liver failure caused by alcoholism.
Jimmy Reilly (17) - musician, Watertower West and Tony And The Tigers, heroin and alcohol overdose.
Rob Graves Ritter - musician, Thelonius Monster, Gun Club, the Bags, 45 Grave
Andy Rogers - musician, bassist with Johnny Cash, heroin overdose.
Peter Rosen - musician, War.
Michael Rudetsky - musician, keyboardist, Culture Club, heroin overdose.
David Ruffin (50) - musician, the Temptations, drug overdose.
Joe Schermie - musician, Three Dog Night, heart attack resulting from long-term drug abuse
Bon Scott (33) - musician, AC/DC, aspiration brought on by alcohol intoxication.
Ronnie Scott (69) - jazz tenor saxophonist, died accidentally from a mixture of brandy and temazepam.
Jason Sears - musician, Rich Kids on LSD, treatment with natural drugs.
Will Shatter - musician, Fliper, heroin overdose.
Eddy Shaver (38)- guitarist Billy Joe Shaver, Dwight Yokam. Heroin overdose.
Bobby Sheehan - musician, Blues Traveler, drug overdose.
Judee Sill - folk musician, heroin overdose.
Hillel Slovak (26) - musician, Red Hot Chili Peppers, heroin overdose.
Robert "Snoopy" Smith (46) - Saxophonist , heart attack after a lifetime of alcohol abuse.
Vinnie Taylor - musician, Sha Na Na, heroin overdose.
Gary Thain - musician, Uriah Heep, drug overdose.
Johnny Thunders - musician, the New York Dolls, alcohol and methadone poisoning.
Ike Turner (76) - musician/producer, died from cocaine overdose with high blood pressure and emphysema as contributing factors
Dick Twardzik - bebop jazz pianist, heroin overdose.
Sid Vicious (21) - musician, the Sex Pistols, heroin overdose, disputed suicide
Gene Vincent - rock and roll musician, liver damage caused by alcohol.
Jeremy Michael Ward - musician, The Mars Volta, apparent heroin overdose.
Michael Weber - lead guitarist of The Seminal Rats, heroin overdose.
Kurt Winter - guitarist with The Guess Who, kidney failure after sustained drug abuse
Keith Whitley (33) - country musician, alcohol poisoning.
Danny Whitten - musician, Crazy Horse, drug overdose or drugs with alcohol (disputed).
Alan Wilson - musician, Canned Heat, drug overdose (possible suicide).
Dennis Wilson (39) - musician, The Beach Boys, alcohol-related drowning
Hank Williams (29) - musician, drugs and probably alcohol.
Andrew Wood - musician, lead singer Mother Love Bone, Malfunkshun, heroin overdose.
*"Layne Staley: Angry Chair—A Look Inside the Heart and Soul of an Incredible Musician" by Argentinean writer and music fan Adriana Rubio.
John Bohlinger is a Montana native and former Ivy Leaguer who was close to earning a Ph.D. in psychology when he dropped out to pursue a life in music. "The psych background comes in handy when dealing with the music business" John quips. Over his fifteen years in Nashville, John has toured the world, holding down the guitar/mandolin/pedal steel end for over 30 major label artists; he currently leads the band for the hit show Nashville Star, which has moved to NBC. John''s songs and playing can be heard in several major motion pictures, major label releases and literally hundreds of television drops. For more info visit johnbohlinger.com
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For the first time in the band’s history, the Dawes lineup for Oh Brother consisted of just Griffin and Taylor Goldsmith (left and right).
Goldsmith’s lyrics spoke to me the loudest, with lines like “Well, you can judge the whole world on the sparkle that you think it lacks / Yes, you can stare into the abyss, but it’s starin’ right back” (a casual Nietzsche paraphrase); and “Oh, the snowfall this time of year / It’s not what Birmingham is used to / I get the feeling that I brought it here / And now I’m taking it away.” The way his words painted a portrait of the sincere, sentimental man behind them, along with his cozy, unassuming guitar work and the band’s four-part harmonies, had me hooked.
Nothing Is Wrong and Stories Don’t End came next, and I happily gobbled up more folksy fodder in tracks like “If I Wanted,” “Most People,” and “From a Window Seat.” But 2015’s All Your Favorite Bands, which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Folk Albumschart, didn’t land with me, and by the time 2016’s We’re All Gonna Die was released, it was clear that Goldsmith had shifted thematically in his writing. A friend drew a thoughtful Warren Zevon comparison to the single, “When the Tequila Runs Out”—a commentary on vapid, conceited, American-socialite party culture—but it still didn’t really do it for me. I fell off the Dawes train a bit, and became somewhat oblivious to their three full-lengths that followed.
Oh Brotheris Goldsmith’s latest addition to the Dawes songbook, and I’m grateful to say that it’s brought me back. After having done some catching up, I’d posit that it’s the second work in the third act, or fall season, of his songwriting—where 2022’s Misadventures of Doomscrollercracked open the door, Oh Brother swings it wide. And it doesn’t have much more than Dawes’ meat and potatoes, per se, in common with acts one or two. Some moodiness has stayed—as well as societal disgruntlement and the arrangement elements that first had me intoxicated. But then there’s the 7/4 section in the middle of “Front Row Seat”; the gently unwinding, quiet, intimate jazz-club feel of “Surprise!”; the experimentally percussive, soft-spoken “Enough Already”; and the unexpected, dare I say, Danny Elfman-esque harmonic twists and turns in the closing track, “Hilarity Ensues.”
The main engine behind Dawes, the Goldsmith brothers are both native “Angelinos,” having been born and raised in the L.A. area. Taylor is still proud to call the city his home.
Photo by Jon Chu
“I have this working hypothesis that who you are as a songwriter through the years is pretty close to who you are in a dinner conversation,” Goldsmith tells me in an interview, as I ask him about that thematic shift. “When I was 23, if I was invited to dinner with grownups [laughs], or just friends or whatever, and they say, ‘How you doin’, Taylor?’ I probably wouldn’t think twice to be like, ‘I’m not that good. There’s this girl, and … I don’t know where things are at—can I share this with you? Is that okay?’ I would just go in in a way that’s fairly indiscreet! And I’m grateful to that version of me, especially as a writer, because that’s what I wanted to hear, so that’s what I was making at the time.
“But then as I got older, it became, ‘Oh, maybe that’s not an appropriate way to answer the question of how I’m doing.’ Or, ‘Maybe I’ve spent enough years thinking about me! What does it feel like to turn the lens around?’” he continues, naming Elvis Costello and Paul Simon as inspirations along the way through that self-evolution. “Also, trying to be mindful of—I had strengths then that I don’t have now, but I have strengths now that I didn’t have then. And now it’s time to celebrate those. Even in just a physical way, like hearing Frank Zappa talking about how his agility as a guitar player was waning as he got older. It’s like, that just means that you showcase different aspects of your skills.
“I am a changing person. It would be weird if I was still writing the same way I was when I was 23. There would probably be some weird implications there as to who I’d be becoming as a human [laughs].”
Taylor Goldsmith considers Oh Brother, the ninth full-length in Dawes’ catalog, to be the beginning of a new phase of Dawes, containing some of his most unfiltered, unedited songwriting.
Since its inception, the engine behind Dawes has been the brothers Goldsmith, with Taylor on guitar and vocals and Griffin on drums and sometimes vocal harmonies. But they’ve always had consistent backup. For the first several years, that was Wylie Gelber on bass and Tay Strathairn on keyboards. On We’re All Gonna Die, Lee Pardini replaced Strathairn and has been with the band since. Oh Brother, however, marks the departure of Gelber and Pardini.
“We were like, ‘Wow, this is an intense time; this is a vulnerable time,’” remarks Goldsmith, who says that their parting was supportive and loving, but still rocked him and Griffin. “You get a glimpse of your vulnerability in a way that you haven’t felt in a long time when things are just up and running. For a second there, we’re like, ‘We’re getting a little rattled—how do we survive this?’”
They decided to pair up with producer Mike Viola, a close family friend, who has also worked with Mandy Moore—Taylor’s spouse—along with Panic! At the Disco, Andrew Bird, and Jenny Lewis. “[We knew that] he understands all of the parameters of that raw state. And, you know, I always show Mike my songs, so he was aware of what we had cookin’,” says Goldsmith.
Griffin stayed behind the kit, but Taylor took over on bass and keys, the latter of which he has more experience with than he’s displayed on past releases. “We’ve made records where it’s very tempting to appeal to your strengths, where it’s like, ‘Oh, I know how to do this, I’m just gonna nail it,’” he says. “Then there’s records that we make where we really push ourselves into territories where we aren’t comfortable. That contributed to [Misadventures of Doomscroller] feeling like a living, breathing thing—very reactive, very urgent, very aware. We were paying very close attention. And I would say the same goes for this.”
That new terrain, says Goldsmith, “forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do. I’m really excited in that sense, because it’s like this is the first album of a new phase.”
“That forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do.”
In proper folk (or even folk-rock) tradition, the music of Dawes isn’t exactly riddled with guitar solos, but that’s not to say that Goldsmith doesn’t show off his chops when the timing is right. Just listen to the languid, fluent lick on “Surprise!”, the shamelessly prog-inspired riff in the bridge of “Front Row Seat,” and the tactful, articulate line that threads through “Enough Already.” Goldsmith has a strong, individual sense of phrasing, where his improvised melodies can be just as biting as his catalog’s occasional lyrical jabs at presumably toxic ex-girlfriends, and just as melancholy as his self-reflective metaphors, all the while without drawing too much attention to himself over the song.
Of course, most of our conversation revolves around songwriting, as that’s the craft that’s the truest and closest to his identity. “There’s an openness, a goofiness—I even struggle to say it now, but—an earnestness that goes along with who I am, not only as a writer but as a person,” Goldsmith elaborates. “And I think it’s important that those two things reflect one another. ’Cause when you meet someone and they don’t, I get a little bit weirded out, like, ‘What have I been listening to? Are you lying to me?’” he says with a smile.
Taylor Goldsmith's Gear
Pictured here performing live in 2014, Taylor Goldsmith has been the primary songwriter for all of Dawes' records, beginning with 2009’s North Hills.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
Guitars
- Fender Telecaster
- Gibson ES-345
- Radocaster (made by Wylie Gelber)
Amps
- ’64 Fender Deluxe
- Matchless Laurel Canyon
Effects
- 29 Pedals EUNA
- Jackson Audio Bloom
- Ibanez Tube Screamer with Keeley mod
- Vintage Boss Chorus
- Vintage Boss VB-2 Vibrato
- Strymon Flint
- Strymon El Capistan
Strings
- Ernie Ball .010s
In Goldsmith’s songwriting process, he explains that he’s learned to lean away from the inclination towards perfectionism. Paraphrasing something he heard Father John Misty share about Leonard Cohen, he says, “People think you’re cultivating these songs, or, ‘I wouldn’t deign to write something that’s beneath me,’ but the reality is, ‘I’m a rat, and I’ll take whatever I can possibly get, and then I’ll just try to get the best of it.’
“Ever since Misadventures of Doomscroller,” he adds, “I’ve enjoyed this quality of, rather than try to be a minimalist, I want to be a maximalist. I want to see how much a song can handle.” For the songs on Oh Brother, that meant that he decided to continue adding “more observations within the universe” of “Surprise!”, ultimately writing six verses. A similar approach to “King of the Never-Wills,” a ballad about a character suffering from alcoholism, resulted in four verses.
“The economy of songwriting that we’re all taught would buck that,” says Goldsmith. “It would insist that I only keep the very best and shed something that isn’t as good. But I’m not going to think economically. I’m not going to think, ‘Is this self-indulgent?’
Goldsmith’s songwriting has shifted thematically over the years, from more personal, introspective expression to more social commentary and, at times, even satire, in songs like We’re All Gonna Die’s “When the Tequila Runs Out.”
Photo by Mike White
“I don’t abide that term being applied to music. Because if there’s a concern about self-indulgence, then you’d have to dismiss all of jazz. All of it. You’d have to dismiss so many of my most favorite songs. Because in a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.” (He elaborates that, if Bob Dylan had trimmed back any of the verses on “Desolation Row,” it would have deprived him of the unique experience it creates for him when he listens to it.)
One of the joys of speaking with Goldsmith is just listening to his thought processes. When I ask him a question, he seems compelled to share every backstory to every detail that’s going through his head, in an effort to both do his insights justice and to generously provide me with the most complete answer. That makes him a bit verbose, but not in a bad way, because he never rambles. There is an endpoint to his thoughts. When he’s done, however, it takes me a second to realize that it’s then my turn to speak.
To his point on artistic self-indulgence, I offer that there’s no need for artists to feel “icky” about self-promotion—that to promote your art is to celebrate it, and to create a shared experience with your audience.
“I hear what you’re saying loud and clear; I couldn’t agree more,” Goldsmith replies. “But I also try to be mindful of this when I’m writing, like if I’m going to drag you through the mud of, ‘She left today, she’s not coming back, I’m a piece of shit, what’s wrong with me, the end’.... That might be relatable, that might evoke a response, but I don’t know if that’s necessarily helpful … other than dragging someone else through the shit with me.
“In a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.”
“So, if I’m going to share, I want there to be something to offer, something that feels like: ‘Here’s a path that’s helped me through this, or here’s an observation that has changed how I see this particular experience.’ It’s so hard to delineate between the two, but I feel like there is a difference.”
Naming the opening track “Mister Los Angeles,” “King of the Never-Wills,” and even the title track to his 2015 chart-topper, “All Your Favorite Bands,” he remarks, “I wouldn’t call these songs ‘cool.’ Like, when I hear what cool music is, I wouldn’t put those songs next to them [laughs]. But maybe this record was my strongest dose of just letting me be me, and recognizing what that essence is rather than trying to force out certain aspects of who I am, and force in certain aspects of what I’m not. I think a big part of writing these songs was just self-acceptance,” he concludes, laughing, “and just a whole lot of fishing.”
YouTube It
Led by Goldsmith, Dawes infuses more rock power into their folk sound live at the Los Angeles Ace Hotel in 2023.